COMMENTARY: The moment my perspective changed Published April 17, 2015 By April McDonald Editor TINKER AIR FORCE BASE, Okla. -- Some events in life are so stirring you know you'll never forget them. For me, there's the space shuttle Challenger explosion on Jan. 28, 1986, the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building bombing on April 19, 1995, and the events of Sept. 11, 2001. In April 1995, I was a 24-year-old small-town Oklahoma girl living in the big city at the beginning of my career. I worked for a craft book publisher at the time of the bombing and a couple of my co-workers were near downtown Oklahoma City when the bomb went off. Although I didn't know any of the 168 victims personally, like many Oklahomans I knew someone who lost someone they loved. One friend's sister was killed and another's mother was buried in the rubble for weeks after. I had to pick up some fliers from a printing company at 10th and Hudson on April 20, 1995. I knew downtown would be crazy, but I wasn't prepared for what I saw. There were so many news trucks from around the country downtown that I had to park several blocks away from the printer and weave through the streets to get to the business. I t was a surreal experience for me. I couldn't believe that all this was taking place in my country, much less my home state. Over the next several weeks, I made other trips downtown. I remember standing at the top of the parking garage near the Bone and Joint Hospital with my mom and grandmother, looking at what was left of the Murrah building. Again, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. But, the moment from that event that sticks out in my mind the most took place a few weeks later, in May. My mom and I are baseball junkies and had attended the Big 8 baseball tournament together for years. Back then, the games were held at All Sports Stadium, which used to be at the Oklahoma State Fairgrounds. League officials couldn't decide whether or not to hold the tournament that year, but eventually decided that maybe watching America's pastime would help a little in the healing process. When Mom and I stood up for the playing of the national anthem to open that year's tournament, we looked across the diamond, out into centerfield and saw the American flag proudly waving in the Oklahoma wind. Beyond the flag, the remains of the Murrah building still stood and that is where my focus was. (The building was imploded a few days later.) In that moment, everything changed. It suddenly didn't matter if my favorite team won or lost. It was then that I realized, in the scheme of life, sports don't really matter. I don't need to cry if my team falls one run short of winning a championship. Sports are fun, but they're not life or death. What I saw beyond that centerfield wall was truly life and death. In that moment, everything became clear. We are blessed to be Americans. Seeing something like the Murrah building bombing is nothing out of the ordinary for young people in some parts of the world. Here, because of the sacrifices made by men and women in uniform, we're fortunate that it's not something we become accustomed to seeing. On this 20th year of remembering those we lost on that day in 1995, I want to say thank you to all of you who put on your uniform day after day and do what you do to rid the world of terrorists. May we never forget or take your sacrifices for granted.